By Thomas Bainbridge
The Victoria Cross has been attained 1553 times since its inception in 1856. Awarded for demonstrating extraordinary courage in the most desperate circumstances, more than a few of its illustrious number have hailed from the North East…
Private Edward Lawson
Within the vastness of the British Empire, there was one far flung corner that was constantly threatened by warring tribes: the North-West Frontier of India. The region was guarded by some of the finest regiments of the British Army, alongside numerous Indian forces and local tribes.
Edward Lawson, born in Blandford Street, Newcastle, in 1873, found himself posted to this backwater in 1897 after he had enlisted with the Gordon Highlanders. Unfortunately for Lawson, he immediately found himself embroiled in a crisis that rocked the Empire.
In July of that year, the Pashtun tribes of Afghanistan rose in rebellion against British troops in the region, having cut off and laid siege to the Malakand Field Force. After six days defending against the onslaught, the British soldiers, commanded by Sir Bindon Blood, were rescued. This was later recounted by Subaltern Winston Churchill in his chronicle of the events, in which he experienced his first taste of combat.
But this was not the end of the conflict. In the Khyber Pass, one of the key strategic choke points along the Frontier, the Afridi tribe, who had been allied to the British and tasked with guarding the pass, themselves rose in revolt. They laid siege to the fort of Saragarhi, in which 21 Sikh soldiers fought 12,000 tribesmen, inflicting heavy casualties, and were then slain to the last man.
In response, another larger force, commanded by William Lockhart, was ordered to take the pivotal Dargai Heights. One Captain described the fateful position:
“Half a mile of crest, thickly studded with an invisible enemy, who were deadly shots at 800 yards, and who at this short distance made every other shot tell. Such was the position that had to be captured from a numerous and powerful enemy, equipped largely with modern batteries and sheltered behind stone sangars which three mountain batteries (and occasionally a fourth) pounded for nearly five hours with no appreciable effect. A more veritable death-trap it is impossible to conceive.”
It was here that the qualities of Private Lawson would be exhibited.
Amid a hail of bullets, the Gordons swept up ‘Fatal Ridge’. The tribesmen, though, were skilled marksmen, and many fell before they could reach the pinnacles.
Lawson saw his company decimated around him. His Lieutenant, Dingwall, was hit and crumpled to the ground. Lawson rushed up to his place and, seeing that Dingwall was still alive, flung him across his back and carried him from the battlefield, saving his life.
Returning to the fray, Lawson stumbled upon an unfortunate fellow private, MacMillan, twice wounded and drenched in blood. He too carried him out of danger, despite heavy fire.
The heights were soon taken. Though 199 men had perished in the attack, two were saved by Lawson’s heroics, for which he was commended with the VC.
Lawson would remain on active service for five more years and returned to England in 1902, settling back in Newcastle, living on Parson’s Avenue, Walker.
With the beginning of the First World War, he rejoined the army, though now in the more pleasant Northern Cyclist Battalion, which conducted home duties such as signalling and communications. Lawson lived until 1955 and is buried in Byker and Heaton Cemetery.
Captain George Maling
With the arrival of the Great War, there arose an even greater need for brave men to come to the forefront. George Maling was one such man.
Born in Bishopwearmouth, Sunderland, in 1888, he was from a medical family and attended Exeter College, Oxford, studying Natural Sciences. His medical training took him to the Royal College of Surgeons and, with the outbreak of War, the Royal Army Medical Corps, commissioned a Lieutenant in 1915.
The mechanical age had produced the vilest methods for the butchery of men, and George had never seen, less treated, the horrendous injuries that were now brought before him.
On 25th September 1915, a renewed offensive against the German line had resulted in monumental casualties that crammed Maling’s field hospital with broken bodies. Undaunted, he worked from 6am on the 25th to 8am the next, knowing that every second would be valuable in saving lives.
During his rounds, the German guns continued to bombard the hospital. Once a shell burst overhead, stunning Maling, wounding an orderly and killing the patient. Yet Maling continued to work despite the grim undertaking before him. In this period, he treated, and likely saved the lives of over 300 men, having amputated limbs, extracted bullets and cauterised wounds.
By the next day, Maling was unable to concentrate for more than half a minute, so was sent to recuperate. It was a staggering episode of courage under fire. He was promoted to Captain and awarded the VC.
Maling returned to England for a short period and then spent the remainder of the War in army hospitals in France, saving countless lives over the next two years. Tragically, his own life was cut short, as he died of pleurisy at 40. Today he is commemorated with a plaque at the Sunderland War Memorial.
Captain John Liddell
John Liddell was another hero of the First World War. Born in Newcastle in 1888, his grandfather had been made a Freeman of the town in 1832. Liddell attended Oxford, studying Zoology at Balliol College. He joined the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders in 1912 and was part of the BEF, among the first British troops to be sent to France at the outbreak.
As the War turned to stalemate, and the armies had dug in by late 1914, there were not yet enough trained recruits to rotate into the lines. As a result, and in recognition of his experience, Liddell was placed in charge of a machine gun troop, with the task of holding off any German attack.
He continued in this duty for 43 consecutive days, despite constant artillery fire; the lack of sleep due to the continual din of arms, an inability to wash regularly and a lack of clean clothing. By his own account he had gone a month without a bath and seven weeks without a change of socks in the wet trenches. For his part in the fighting around La Maisnil, he was granted the Military Cross, before being taken out of the line in order to get some well-needed rest.
The shock of his time in the trenches had taken its toll on him mentally and physically, and Liddell, being a trained pilot, looked for other ways to be of use.
In early 1915, he gained a transfer from the Highland Regiment to the embryonic Royal Flying Corps and learned the basics of aerial combat and reconnaissance. Returning once more to France, he flew his first mission in July. Only a few days later he was in the air again, en-route to Bruges to scout German troop movements.
Floating over Ostend, he was fired upon from above. A German fighter descended, drilling holes in the wood and canvas body of the plane. Liddell was hit in the thigh, the bullet smashing the bone and knocking him out.
The plane began plummeting thousands of feet to the ground before Liddell regained consciousness. He then lurched the faulty controls to correct the kite, and with devilish panache despite the intensity of the pain in his leg, glided it back to friendly lines.
Upon being greeted by Belgian orderlies, Liddell refused to be lifted from the cockpit for fear of bloodloss, and so expertly tied a tourniquet round the wound and stayed put. One major wrote to him upon hearing of the escapade, claiming: “You have set a standard for pluck and determination which may be equalled, but certainly will not be surpassed, during this War.”
In hospital, Liddell was inundated with congratulations from his friends and comrades. However, the relief was short-lived, as his gangrenous wound began to fester. The only way to stop the spread of the infection was to amputate, but this was not to be enough and Liddell succumbed to septicaemia on 31st August 1915, a mere 8 days after he had been awarded with the VC.
Liddell was buried in Basingstoke and today is commemorated by memorials in Oxford, Edinburgh, Stirling, and Newcastle.
